


twelve months

by orphan_account



Category: Undertale
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Accidental Marriage, Accidental Relationship, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotions, Fresh parasite - Freeform, Haphephobia, Help, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Melting, References to Depression, Sanscest - Freeform, Self-Worth Issues, Self-cest, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Soulmates, True Fresh - Freeform, all the angst tags, but not in the way you're thinking probably, i mean kinda, oh boy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-14 17:12:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13012386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: oh please don't goyou're all i knowmy home,my home sweet homedoctor, doctor, pleasedon't take another[in which fresh is a parasite's version of terminal, error is in denial, and things are going great.]





	1. what time is it

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Love the Parasite (abandoned)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7959559) by [Funnybone800](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Funnybone800/pseuds/Funnybone800). 



_it's three am._

 

Error continues to stare up at the ceiling.

He turns his head, and traces the cracks and dents of his apartment walls.

He shifts on top of the white comforter, and rolls over to lie on his side.

He continues staring at the wall.

His eyes pass over an open window.

 

_Error stares in confusion as Fresh crawls in through his window, having scaled the pipes somehow and clambered onto his balcony. He lives on the fourth floor. What the fu--_

_“What’s up, my_ **_rad_ ** tastical _bro-homie-buddy who is still wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiig-_ waggidy _awake even though it is a_ **_HOT_ ** _three in the morning??”_

 

...A disorganized, slightly tilted shelf.

_Fresh continues to shimmy onto the carpet. He plants a gloved hand on the top of his barren shelf and uses it to pull the rest of his body through the window, knowing that Error would fucking not help him out. He has to do some kind of acrobatic maneuver to get through, so he knocks a few things off his shelf. Well, the few things that were on there, anyways._

_Once he falls through the window with a soft thump, he puts the objects back on the shelf. (Though in the wrong order Error had them in, he had put them in a specific pattern…) He then rolls over to lie on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Error feels slightly obliged to ask him what the fuck he’s doing in his shitty apartment of suffering and depression at three in the fucking morning, but Fresh starts talking._

 

_“Let’s be honest.”_

_“This body isn’t going to last much longer.”_

 

Error furrows the spaces where his eyebrows would be.

**“What do you mean?”**

 

_“I mean that the soul? The original owner of this body? They’re dying, and soon I won’t have anything else to live off of.”_

**“I** **_know that_ ** **. I’m asking why you are telling me this. Why is it so important that you tell me. I don’t care for the expiration date of your latest vessel."**

_“I’m telling you because I may not be able to transfer myself into another body soon enough to save myself.”_

**“What, is there something wrong with you? You can’t manage to lure someone in?”**

_“It’s not that. I’ve got plenty of options to choose from, humans being the careless and blind meat sacks they are, but I’ve just become… weak. It’s hard to find a monster body that will easily accept my form as well as a skeleton’s.”_

**“Don’t you have any alternate forms of energy? Magic attacks or** **_something_ ** **.”**

_“I’ve tried to eat liquid DETERMINATION and other magic traits. I’ve also tried liquid magic but that didn’t really… work out. My form can only chew on solid energy.”_

**“Well. Shit.”**

 

He really didn’t know what else to say at the time. He would’ve said he could care less about Fresh, but…

 

That’d be a lie.

 

He knew exactly what these feelings were and he hated them. He didn’t know what to do with them. He has been without these feelings his entire life. The times when he probably did feel this way were forgotten, because he’s been stuck the way he is for so long.

He rolls back over onto his back, and zones out thinking about what had just occurred a few minutes ago. In the distance, someone is playing soft jazz. It must be coming out of their window or balcony.

 

_“Have you noticed that I’m not able to move as often?”_

**“...”**

 

Error had made a face at this, due to the fact that he rarely ever got out of his apartment, much less do it to look for Fresh. Fresh usually just came to him, skateboarding down the hall or just “poofing” into his living room. However… Yes, he did notice that Fresh stopped coming as often as he usually did. He had figured Fresh finally grew bored of him and decided to go bother someone else for once.

 

He wasn’t slightly disappointed about that fact, he was relieved.

_“My control over this body is slipping because the owner’s control on their HOPE is slipping.”_

 

He was happy that Fresh was going to disappear soon, and he’d stop getting daily visits from an eye blinding, 90’s PSA-themed, skeleton-parasite-monster-thing. He was glad.

He was thankful.

He was delighted.

Overjoyed.

 

Ecstatic.

 

…

 

He wasn’t relieved at all.

 

He was… sad, somehow. It was… achy. It made him feel hurt somehow, but not in the “ouch” way.

He didn’t like it. It was confusing and it left him in a jumble, like right now.

 

Error scowls, and tells himself to ignore it.

 

It’s not like he likes Fresh in that way or anything. He’s just vaguely friendly with Fresh, considering that he doesn’t like answering Swap’s calls. Those two are… probably the only “positive” influences on his life.

 

Emphasis on “positive” because Nightmare and the villian club don’t count as the classical definition of “friends”.

 

He has no sort of close relation to them.

(He’s close to all of them. He’s a lonely piece of garbage and Error knows it very well.)

 

 **“So what now? You’re just gonna let yourself die off?”**  

 _“There’s nothing I can do about it. Of course no one would willingly give their body up to a parasite. They’d be in constant pain and suffering.”_  

**“My body is too unstable to even consider, huh...”**

_There goes that plan._

 

_“Aww, Error would give his body up for lil ol’ me?”_

 

**“Shut up.”**

_He was only thinking about it anyways._  

_They were silent for a few more moments, just sitting there and processing what to do next. At least, Error was. It’s never really clear what Fresh is thinking about._

_If it were Error who had to die soon, he’d just kill himself off instead of starving and suffering. But a parasite’s one true wish is to continue on living, isn’t it? That’s why they continue to feed off of bodies endlessly, so that they may live themselves, like the past lives they have gone through._

_Most parasites don’t have feelings. They don’t feel empathy or sorrow for their last meals. They don’t care about how they wreck people’s lives after they clean out their latest victim._

 

_Error wouldn’t exactly say that Fresh really cared about his victims either._

 

 _He’s seen glimpses of the person inside, from times when they were stronger and they would struggle. They would call for help from anyone who was listening and they’d have this desperate look on their faces. Wide eyes-- or eye-sockets, heh, depending on which species Fresh is inhabiting-- a plea for help on those weird sunglasses Fresh wears, and a desperate expression._  

 _They were in pain, he knew._  

 _He used to be in pain, too. But now he can’t even feel it anymore. He’s too numb. Error kind of wishes that he still felt it again._  

_He deserves it, doesn’t he?_

 

Error brings his palms to his eye sockets and he rubs his face, the scowl on his expression growing deeper.

This is stupid.

Feeling things is stupid.

He’s supposed to be a maniac, a deranged mass-murderer. Feeling emotions is bad.

 

(His SOUL continues to ache, only increasing in intensity.)

 

Error pulls the comforter over his head, and rolls onto his front to faceplant into the pillow. Skeletons don’t need to breathe, anyways. So if he just tries to suffocate himself in this piece of shit pillow, then it’ll be okay.

 

_ Fresh had ended the silence abruptly after a few minutes.  _

 

_ “Welp! Better get going soon. Got monsters to annoy, tricks to do on my skateboard...” _

**“Wh--”**

_ “See ya on the flip side, brah! FRESH POOF!” _

**"NO FUCK NOT AGAIN!"**

 

He still thinks that Fresh’s poof thing is stupid. Plus, he had to clean up a bunch of pink powder from his carpet (again.) He hates vacuuming. 

(Fresh was staring at him while he was thinking. He didn’t even notice until he turned his head when Fresh began talking. What is he supposed to say about that?)

 

Error growls at his own thoughts and muffles his screaming with the pillow. Suffocation doesn't work on skeletons, unfortunately.


	2. the plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oopsie

_ “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit’ssssssssssssssss Freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee--” _

 

Error looks up from the book he’s reading.

There’s a dull thud.

 

The thought of Fresh running into his door and falling over immediately springs to mind, but he waves it away, because Fresh has ran into his door--and through it. Error doesn’t budge from his spot on the couch. He has a finger bookmarking the page of “ _ Fahrenheit 451 _ ” as he already begins to close it, getting ready to answer the door.  He moves to get off the couch, sitting up from where he’s splayed himself over the sides and edge of the green cushions, and freezes, expecting Fresh to break his door in by now. He waits a few extra seconds, giving Fresh time to prepare himself with party streamers and glitter. Fresh is just going to be a lil slower.

 

There’s only an eerie silence.

 

He doesn’t move for a minute, concern swiftly taking over his form as he dashes from the couch to the door. Error only hesitates for a second, adjusting the gloves he wears to protect him from an easy way to glitching out in public. He checks himself over with a glance, to make sure he’s fully covered in at least one layer of fabric before unlocking his door.

 

Fresh is slumped on the carpet, outside. He’s face down, like his legs just stopped working while he was knocking on Error’s door. He’s so quiet. He’s so, so quiet it scares Error. It feels so wrong for him to be still and silent. He looks… 

Error’s SOUL does this thing where it simultaneously pluments, breaks and also rams into his ribcage. He clenches his hand into a fist as he goes to kneel beside Fresh. Motionless Fresh. He doesn’t look nearly as attention-grabbing or colorful like this. He hates it. It’s wrong, it’s wrong, it needs to stop.

He reaches out to touch Fresh’s shoulder and shake him, but he feels a knife of fear pierce through him.

 

_ Not now. _

 

Error grits his teeth and grips Fresh’s shoulder. He feels a shiver go through his body, glitches following along in its path, crawling from his hand up to his shoulder, like electricity through a wire. Error shakes it off, though the effects remain. He tells himself to breathe slowly, to follow what the doctor said, in and out, four in and four out, he’s alive, no one is here to hurt him, he’s alone, he’s alone with Fresh, it’s okay, he’s in his shitty apartment building… 

 

Fresh, Fresh needs help.

 

Error tries to shake Fresh, but his shoulder seems to… slip out of place. It’s like he’s begun to disintegrate... 

 

Error swiftly pulls his glove away, his breathing speeding up, his mind racing a mile a second, shock rippling through his skeleton, Fresh, Fresh Fresh Fresh what’s wrong with you what’s happening to you I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner please  _ don’t leave me-- _

 

He feels his entire body start shaking at the sight of Fresh’s stupid green and purple windbreaker stick to his glove in strands of… oddly colored substance. ( **Amalgamates** in every timeline, Alphys,  _ what have you done? They’re hurting--) _

 

Suddenly, Error misses Fresh busting in through his door on a skateboard. 

 

Fresh groans and shifts. More of his windbreaker sticks onto the carpet. Error cringes and wonders how much of Fresh he’ll be able to pick up before all of him turns to a puddle. If he could only remember his original memories from his old AU, then he’d be able to save Fresh. If only he could _do something right_ for **once** , he'd be able to save Fresh. He has to  _ save  _ him, he has to  _ do something _ , come  _ on  _ **Error** , think of what to do--!

 

_ “You’re useless. An absolute disgrace.” _

_ “What are you lazing around for? Get back to work, you little abomination.” _

_ “Can’t you do anything else other than lie around like a pitiful excuse for a rock?” _

_ “No one likes you, because you do nothing to save them. You’re not doing anything right now. No wonder they hate you, huh?” _

 

_ “Why didn’t you speak up?” _

_ “Why can’t you stick up for yourself?” _

 

**“Shut up. Shut up shut up shut UP.”**

 

Error shakes his skull, putting pressure on his forehead. He drags clawed phalanges down his face, hooking one into his right eye-socket. The other goes to cover his left eye, which is pulsing in pain. It feels like a thousand and more needles all jingling around in the emptiness. He wants to shake his head back and forth to get the needles out, to make the noise stop, to shut them up--

 

Fresh. Fresh. Fresh--

 

“Stop getting fucking distracted before Fresh fucking dies. Dumbass. Stop, holy shit.” He’s talking to himself again, but he’s managed to wiggle his hands beneath Fresh’s back and haul him up into his arms. 

 

Oh god, what if they get stuck together?

 

Nonono, that only happens if two monsters with massive amounts of DT start melting on one another. He’s not melting, he’s glitching out and he needs to fucking save Fresh before he can even think about dying.  Error stumbles into his apartment, leaving behind a Fresh-sized puddle of multicolored mess on the hallway carpet, just outside his door. He closes the door by backing into it, not even bothering with the damned lock as he nearly drops Fresh onto the tile of his kitchen.

 

_ Easier to clean the dust out of. _

 

Fresh still isn't moving.

 

He panics.

He lets the questions and the screaming wash over him. 

He lets himself go on autopilot.

 

_ You stupid piece of shit, what are you doing? Save him, save him, why didn’t you save him? _

_ It’s never going to be the same without Fresh. _

_ He’s melting all over your tile… _

_ Just kill him now, it’ll save you a lot of pain. _

_ Everything will be okay, everything will be okay! I promise! _

_ Error, where are you? Jeez, I was searching everywhere! You’ll miss our weekly knitting lessons if you just sulk beneath the sink. It’s a wonder I, the MAGNIFICENT SWAP, found you!! _

_ Brah, you look bomb-diggity! I’m LOVING the new threads, babe. _

_ Whoops, did I say babe? I meant brah.  _

_ Error, you totally just got all blue! It was like lookin’ at a short blueberry. _

 

_ If I give him a piece of my SOUL, will he live longer? _

 

He’s already pulling out his SOUL and placing his gloves around it.


	3. um, fuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> someone did an oopsie... again

Error’s SOUL is incredibly unstable.

Error himself knows this. Very, very well. 

He has to keep it from shattering almost every second of his life, using the same blue string he dusts monsters and humans alike with. 

Now, he’s ironically using it to save another person, who, even more ironically, eats away at the souls of other people, because Fresh is fucking parasite and why is he doing this.

Error mercilessly rips a part of himself from his own SOUL, the very culmination of his being, all just to save Fresh. He momentarily glitches the fuck out, and he freezes, suspended in time, though his mind rushes a mile a second. He resumes moving after a few seconds pass, even swifter than before, paying no mind to his low stats and the strong ache of something missing. He flounders for a second, because he either strips Fresh of his shirt and drops the shard in the space between his ribs, or he shoves his SOUL into Fresh’s eye-socket.

Oh god, that sounds kind of gross.

Dammit, he’s trying to save a melting man here and he’s thinking about weird shit. Stop it Error!

He’s never thought about where the hell Fresh’s true body was, but he was going for the SOUL in his ribcage. Error briefly fumbles with Fresh’s shirt, having to search through his dimensional box for a pair of scissors, and cuts it open. Then, he peers into Fresh’s ribcage and winces. 

The once vibrant, whole, inverted heart that used to sit there is now decimated. Is this what happens to Fresh’s victims?

He doesn’t give much thought to it before he slips the shard of his soul into the tiny spaces between Fresh’s ribs. It makes contact with Fresh’s “SOUL” with a small clink. He grafts it onto the other’s using a bit of blue string, tying them together-- 

 

Hold on, isn’t this a lot like soul-bonding?

 

It’s too late, because now they’re literally tied together, and Fresh’s SOUL is dramatically gaining shape, while his own shard… melts into the other’s. It’s disconcerting and mind boggling to watch. Error is a little preoccupied with keeling over in pain, clutching at his chest and breathing harshly while Fresh stirs, gaining solidity.

It was all for him.

He did it for Fresh.

Now, there’s no denying what was happening to him.

With these stupid emotions, his blue magic tying them literally together while Fresh can’t do a thing, he just made a goddamn monster bond between them. They’re literally married. He’s married to  _ Fresh _ now.

It was to save Fresh from death.

But at what cost?

Now, he’s gonna have Fresh constantly feeding on his magic through the blue string around their SOULs. Now, he’s probably sentenced himself to death. Now, as long as Error lives, Fresh does too, and if he somehow gets injured, Fresh is gonna feel the pain too.

Wait, he’s constantly in pain, though.

Error cringes at Fresh’s curled up body on the tile. He scoots away from Fresh’s writhing form and leans against a wall, wondering if he should do something to help him through it, but a little voice tells him that he’ll probably just mess up the soulbonding business or whatever. He wants to touch and hold Fresh, he wants to cradle him and let him grip onto his jacket, but when he thinks about it, a familiar revolting fear/disgust roils in him and slaps him for thinking of such a thing.

Soulbonding is a process in which two or more monsters who care for each other, whether romantically or platonically, create a tie or bond between their souls in a sign of affection, trust and love, in order to further progress their deep understanding of one another and in order to better protect one another. 

In monster culture, this is considered marriage, whether platonic or not. Often enough, soulbonding will occur directly before, during, or immediately after intercourse between two or more monsters in order to also better transfer magic between the bonded. A soulbond between two or more monsters is often used to supplement the monster with lower stats, though the magic will only drain when one monster is in severe need of it, such as during pregnancy or when they are fatally injured.

Error cradles his head in his hands and then lifts his head to eye his gloves, which still have Fresh on them. That sounds wrong, but it’s true. The melty residue Fresh left behind on his clothes while he was… dying, for some reason stayed on him and did not solidify even when Error stabilized Fresh. After lifting his head out of his hands, he brushes it off and only watches it fleck onto the tile like icing.

Now what?

Fresh is no longer at risk of dying.

Error still feels upset, somehow. He feels bad for tying Fresh to him indefinitely. Error’s HoPe probably isn’t even good enough to keep him alive. Why’d he even do this? What’s the use of trying to save a dying monster when you’re just prolonging and intensifying their pain with your own? When did he become so selfish; to keep Fresh alive when he was planning on dying, taking away that decision from him, the one thing he truly owns, then marrying him without even asking? All just because--

 

Because....

 

Because he….

 

He feels something get lodged in his throat. Maybe it’s just Fresh choking him.

Nope, nothing. Damn it.

He’s being stupid. He’s overreacting. He shouldn’t be feeling this way.

Like they said, he’s oversensitive.

He’s silly.

He’s dumb.

He’s loopy.

He should have just let Fresh die.

He should have just given all of his SOUL to Fresh.

He doesn’t need it.

Fresh only needs him alive so he can live.

Error has to stay alive for Fresh.

He should’ve gone with his plan.

He should’ve just lowered his HP so that Fresh could take over.

Why did he do this?

 

_ "You love him too much to let him go. How selfish is that?" _

He's so selfish.


End file.
